I set my keys on the hook just inside the door of my house, as my phone buzzed in my pocket. Fishing it out, I glanced at the screen and noticed a text from Riza across the street. I pulled up the message and read as I started to kick my shoes off.
*Hey, just saw you pull in the driveway! Sorry to bother you but I need some help getting some heavy boxes out of the attic and Ronny is won’t be home until Friday. Would you mind giving me a hand?*
Riza was an adorable 4’11” brunette of Philippine or Indonesian heritage, a cute pair of B-cup she was very proud of that sat on a wonderfully petite frame, and a decent sized ass that wasn’t huge, but it suited her body very well. She filled a bikini like a Sports Illustrated model, and I’ve excused myself on more than one occasion during pool parties at their house to deal with an issue that had ‘just come up’. Ronny was a lucky guy. They were in their late 20’s, college sweethearts, and Ronny was a wonderful husband to her. His job in construction kept him away from home for weeks or months at a time, but he made it up to her when he was home. I was in my early thirties, unmarried, not for the lack of trying. I just hadn’t met the girl that made the fireworks go off in my chest yet.